


You Fix, No Problem!

by Soquilii9



Category: Almost Paradise (TV)
Genre: Alex Walker - Freeform, Almost Paradise, Cebu Philippines, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: A former DEA agent forced into early retirement bought a gift shop in Cebu, the Philippine Islands.That was fifteen years ago.This is now.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	You Fix, No Problem!

After his plane landed in Cebu City, Alex Walker's first full day of retirement began with a visit to his doctor, after which he went to inspect his new property.

He followed the hotel manager, a hefty woman named Mrs. Santos, from her office to what amounted to the back yard of the resort. Despite the formerly modest Paradise Hotel morphing into a popular vacation area for the entire world in the fifteen years since he had last seen it, the small shop remained more or less secluded from the pandemonium.

She unlocked the weather-beaten front door and Alex followed her in. The first thing he noticed was the paint peeling on the front door and the broken glazing on the glass windows.

Once inside, he took in the now-dilapidated wreck of the gift shop he had purchased before he retired. Then, it had been a pristine property, ready to open after merely restocking. Now..... now, however, every surface - floor, windows, deteriorating display cases and shelves, even the damned ceiling draped with cobwebs - was coated with a thick layer of dust and dirt. A sour odor hung in the air as if the dried remains of dead fish had blown in from the beach at Cebu Strait.

 _Good thing the doc didn't diagnose allergies._ He refrained from breathing deeply.

'This is not how I remembered it,' he ventured.

Mrs. Santos flung aside a rotting curtain to let in some sun, filling the air with minute particles. She was direct, unconcerned and annoyingly optimistic. 'You fix, no problem!'

Alex wished she would stop yelling. Did she think he was deaf?

'This shop give you lots of money! So much money!' She motioned him to follow her. He took a step and his foot went through the floor.

She looked back at him and flung her arms wide. 'You fix! No problem! Your apartment in back.'

Alex yanked his foot out of the floor. _I fix; no problem; make so much money. Hell, I'm gonna need so much just to get started. I'll be lucky if I break even. Alex, does 'sold a bill of goods' come to mind?_

He slowly followed her back, stepping gingerly. The wooden display cases seemed to be intact, just dirty. They'd need new paint. Maybe he could patch the floor and hide it under linoleum.

Mrs. Santos continued her lecture in loud pidgin English, jabbing her finger at him. She was giving him a headache. 'Water and electricity get from hotel. You pay twice a month. You late, I cut off. So...don't be late!'

Alex stepped back to sit on what he assumed was a sturdy bedstead. He went flying backward, arms and legs splayed wide as the frame disintegrated under his weight.

'Aw!' she exclaimed.

As she headed out the door, Alex heard the strident phrase that would stay with him for the rest of the day. 'You fix, no problem!'

Once she was gone, he struggled to his feet and grabbed the first thing that came to hand - a broken stick of furniture. He hurled it across the room, hitting a dusty mug that crashed to the floor. His monitor beeped. His temple throbbed. He tried to slow his rate of breathing and collected his thoughts. _First things first. Make a list._

The outside wasn't so bad, a plain single-gabled tin roof only slightly rusted, deep, oddly-planked steps resembling bricks that led one to a wooden porch and a sturdy set of front doors. Overgrown hedges flanking the sides were taller than he was and gave it a closed-in look. He'd probably cut those back someday. Then again, maybe not. They acted as a wind brake for the ocean breezes; they might even be useful in a hurricane, if they had those here. Landscaping was last on the list, anyway.

After a trip into town and spending a sizeable chunk of money on supplies, he set to work on the inside. Thankfully, the bathroom was in good shape with a working shower, sink and toilet. He donned a mask and used a broom to sweep everything from the ceiling down. The display cases that weren't bolted to the floor went in a corner to be refurbished.

The first day of his new venture and new life came to an end with a shower, a hamburger and a beer. He'd sleep on the new futon tonight.

Worn out from travel, adjusting to his new home, his visit to the doctor that morning and an evening of hard work, he sat on the front step, gazing toward the strait, so wide that no land masses could be seen, not even the lights of Lapu-Lapu City. If life and his years as a DEA agent had taught him one thing, it was to expect the unexpected. The peace he felt now was an illusion. Something or someone would come along to shatter it. Of that he was sure. The question was, in the shape he was in now, would he welcome that something or would it destroy what little he had left?

More importantly, what in hell was he gonna name his gift shop?

  
  



End file.
